As Far As I Go
by moonlighttrail
Summary: Short musings of one of the often vilified girls of "The Outsiders". Sylvia shows up to Dallas' funeral. She shouldn't be there. She knows she shouldn't be there. "But still... maybe he could have held on a little longer if it wasn't for me."


I don't think I should be here. Actually, I know I shouldn't be. The back pew of the funeral home chapel is as far as I've got, and even that's too far. It ain't exactly a church, but enough like one to make me squirm.

There ain't even a service, just a viewing and a… and a burial after. That ain't right. He would hate this. Bein' all closed up in a box for eternity. If there was one thing he hated, it was a cage. Kind of ironic if you think how many times he got himself locked in the cooler. It'd have been better if they'd cremated him. Fire would've suited him just fine. But since when did his old man care about what he wanted?

But maybe this ain't so bad really. They buried the kid. Johnny. Jesus, how could I ever forget that name? Well, they buried him yesterday, and I think he'd want to be with him. Maybe they'll put them close. He'd like that. Dal might come across as a big, bad, I don't need no one hood, but even he could get lonely. I'm proof of that.

He liked to show me off when it suited him and brush me off when he was in one of his moods, but in between all that, there were some good times. Those late nights walking around the streets. The thrill of him was exciting. Exhilarating even. Dal walked around like he was invincible, but he could also be real funny. Goofy even if there was no one around to show tough for. I got to see more of him than most people. It was one of those nights he gave me his ring, and that's when I knew it'd be over soon. Dallas didn't get attached. He'd run hot and heavy to draw you in and then turn cold as the arctic when you got too close.

I don't like waiting around for things to happen to me; that's something Dal and I have in common. Had in common. So, I made the first move when he got himself locked back up. I started seeing other guys. Those fellas are lucky Dal didn't have a mind to go after them. They must have been some special kind of stupid to step out with me when I was still Winston's girl. Call me coward for doing it that way if you want to, but I couldn't look him in the eye and do it straight out. Don't know any girl who could.

I know I did the right thing. My time with him was good, but I had to start thinking about me. Around here if you don't have a ring on your finger by twenty, that's it. You're dubbed a spinster or a slut. I don't want to be the slut forever, and I sure as hell ain't cut out for the spinster life. Dallas was never gonna give me the kinda life I need. He didn't have it in him. I needed to start finding someone who can. Dal with a wife and kids? Never in a million.

Just look at them all standing over there. A couple of the Curtises, Mathews, Steve and Evie… I know it's gotta be rough on them, but do they have to look at me like that? Like if I were a guy they'd haul me outta this place and beat me senseless. Evie still might if her expression is any indication. Her man's hurting, and I'm the reason. Maybe not the only reason, but part at least. I was one less reason Dal had to stick around. But they should know the score by now. He was never gonna live to be an old man; that was never in the cards. Too wild. Too reckless. But still, maybe he could held on a little longer if it wasn't for me.

Oh, shit. They're coming over. Maybe I can run for it.

What the hell, Sylvia, east side girls don't run for shit, so pull yourself together. They ain't gonna cause a scene here.

One by one. Keep walking. Please keep walking.

"You gonna go see him?"

Shit. I look over to see Mathews, the only one who'd stayed, and shake my head.

"It's wrong. I… I can't."

I want to scream and explain that Dallas and stillness were polar opposites. That if I saw him like that I'd never be able to shake it out of my head. It'd drive me mad and ruin anything decent I might still have of him. But I can't say it. I don't think I have to.

"Suit yourself," he says, and as he steps away I feel his hand on my shoulder.

Maybe I ain't the biggest villain in this story.

Maybe Dallas is the only one to blame.

Or maybe it's just circumstance.


End file.
